


(keep your) boots tight, (keep your) gun close

by clumsygyrl (thegirlthatisclumsy)



Series: Trope Meme September 2012 [9]
Category: Marvel Avengers Movies Universe, The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Dark, Apocalypse, M/M, Tropes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-23
Updated: 2012-09-23
Packaged: 2017-11-14 22:15:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,673
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/520069
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thegirlthatisclumsy/pseuds/clumsygyrl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Hawkeye, come in. What is your global?” The line clicked in his ear and Clint hunched lower in the seat, the leather was cracked and broken in so many places.  It was being held together with hope and wishes in forms of tacks and duct tape. The sun was unforgiving in the desert. Clint snorted and licked the split in his lip. </p><p>The entire world was a desert.</p>
            </blockquote>





	(keep your) boots tight, (keep your) gun close

**Author's Note:**

  * For [hammerhead](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hammerhead/gifts).



> For hammerhead22 on lj who wanted Clint/Coulson in apocalypse fic. I don't read and or write apocalypse fic, but I did for hammerhead. Because I'm a pushover. hah.

“Hawkeye, come in. What is your global?” The line clicked in his ear and Clint hunched lower in the seat, the leather was cracked and broken in so many places. It was being held together with hope and wishes in forms of tacks and duct tape. The sun was unforgiving in the desert. Clint snorted and licked the split in his lip. 

The entire world was a desert.

“Hawkeye, this is Captain. Come in. What is your global?” Steve sounded tired and frustrated. He hated it when Clint took Flotsam out into the Deadlands. 

Clint took the first sharp corner, the wheels kicked up dust and dirt. Rocks hit an old campaign poster of some smarmy smiling politician. 

“Relax, El Capitan. A birdsong came over the Waves last night. Just checking it out. Nat's got my six.” Clint patted the retrofitted assault rifle on the seat next to him. 

“Hawkeye return to base,” Steve just sounded sad now.

Clint clenched so hard at the wheel it creaked. His teeth ached as he bit back words that were angry and acidic. “No.”

“At least, let me send Ironman to you.”

Clint laughed and he choked on road dust as the old Jeep pulled itself out of a rut in the road and rocketed forward. “Hell no. He's still recovering from the last attack. We're already men down, Cap. And you can't keep running at them by yourself.”

For a moment, Clint thought the line had died. It happened the further that they ventured out from the Center. “Hulk-.”

“Even he can't stay angry all the time. No matter what he says. Loki's forces are gaining on us, Cap. If the birdsong ain't lying. Then we've got a chance. We need more Fighters with us.”

“You can't be sure he's alive, Clint.”

Clint bit down hard on the inside of his cheek. “We don't know he's dead either, Cap. Until I'm not breathing or I find a body, Phil Coulson is alive. Are we free skies, Cap?”

There was a sigh, but it was fond. Clint felt some of the anger and tension ease. “Clear as Before, Hawkeye.” There was a crackle then Steve came back. “Bring them home, soldier.”

“He wouldn't want me to do any less, Cap. Keep the heaters humming. I'm coming back with extras.”

“I know you will, Clint.”

Clint jabbed the button on the comm and adjusted the belt. He could sight down the fragmented line of broken skyscrapers in the distance. Somewhere in its belly was his husband, he knew it in his bones, and he was damn sure not going to leave until he brought Phil home.

-0-0-

The year was 3031P.L. 

The battle for dominion was fought and Earth and its inhabitants fought still to regain their home. A battle that had begun over thirty years previous. 

Clint was born at the turn of the century. His birth began the day of first contact.

He came into the world fighting.

He hasn't stopped.

-0-0-

Clint was outgunned and outmanned. The Nothings had him trapped on a fire escape in what used to be Old New York's Lower East Side. If Clint was fanciful, he would say that he could smell baked bread. 

Clint grunted and fired four more rounds into four more heads, dropping them like flies. There were too many blank eyed Nothings, bodies that used to be human but were more meat puppet than anything. The blue veins had encompassed them from forehead to fingertip. Clint had been infected when he was twenty three. They'd pulled him out before entire Nothing could take.

“Poor bastards,” Clint whispered and slammed in another clip and sent up a prayer to whoever was listening that they found the souls of these bodies in the next life. It wasn't his prayer. It was one a little orphan girl had taught him in the Underground. She'd been his best friend and he'd lost her in the war. She'd left and never returned one night. 

Clint angled his body and twisted himself around to fire at another wave. 

Suddenly the Nothings clutched at their heads and just dropped.

It was silent. The only sound Clint could hear was his own heavy breathing. Someone else was out there and he had no idea if they were friend or foe. They'd just taken out a horde of Nothings for him. He would lean toward friend unless opinion needed to change.

Clint swallowed and he held up his hands. “Friendly!” He wanted to grab Nat back up just in case, but whatever had dropped that many Nothings without a round probably couldn't be taken out with his favorite girl.

“Sookin syn!” 

Clint whipped around and stared. “Nat? Holy fuck!” His little orphan girl and he swallowed. It'd been years since he'd seen her, but he knew that smirk.

“Show me your hands,” Natasha said dropping down onto the fire escape. Her lips twitched slightly and her eyes were shiny. 

Clint held them out and pull out the collar of his shirt. “Blue free since three oh twenty three,” he said and he stared at her. “I thought you were dead.”

Nat snorted and she grabbed him by the hair and pulled him in close for a hug. “Funny. I thought you were smarter.” She stepped back and her smile got even bigger. “I met someone.”

Clint blinked and his face broke out into a bigger smile. “Yeah? Special someone?”

Natasha ducked back into the building and Clint followed close behind. “You could say that.” She was wearing the insignia of the Fighters. Their outposts were scattered. Steve's unit, where Clint had been for the past five years, had kept the Center free so far. The outliers were fighting at the borders, killing groupings of Thanosites but it was hard and Clint knew what their numbers were, or he could guess. “How are your supplies?”

Natasha took them down service stairs and she looked back over her shoulder. Her smile was backlit by the setting sun and it turned her hair gold and orange. “Good. We're doing good. I'm glad you got our birdie.”

Clint's chest tightened and he quickened his steps. “Nat, I'm looking for someone. Someone who knows my 'song code. They used part of it on your birdie.”

Nat just smiled that secret smile that Clint remembered from years ago. Clint badgered her for four blocks and she finally just smacked a hand over his mouth and dragged him toward what looked like an old textile factory. There were guards stationed around the perimeter. Natasha called out greetings and whistled a three tone melody that Clint instantly recognized. He'd been taught it years ago.

“Nat, Nat...” Clint stared at the doors as they swung open.

“I told you I met someone. I didn't say he was for me though,” Nat slung her rifle over her shoulder and smirked.

“Goddamnit, Clint. It took you long enough.” There was a thud of a cane against cracked pavement and Clint's eyes finally met familiar gray blue ones. 

“Phil,” he said and Phil wrapped strong arms around him and Clint held on tight. "You son of a bitch."

“Always late, kid,” Phil said into his hair.

“Fuck you,” Clint said and laughed. “I'm right on time. We're both here and we're both alive. Best timing in the world, sir.”

Phil cupped Clint's face in his hands and Clint tipped his forehead against Phil's breathing out hard. “They all thought you were dead.”

"But not you." There was a brush of chapped lips against Clint's brow. “Steve worries too much.” Phil leaned in and kissed Clint's ear. “We found it, Clint. The sequence.”

Clint's fingers wound tight on Phil's shirt's sleeves. “How-.”

“An algorithm, sound wave sequence that will fry 'em all. Bunch of the docs we rescued from Jersey. My last mission before my Wave unit died on me. Had a little hiccup," he nodded at his leg and the cane. "But Nat's unit picked me up along with my squad. Had to take an involuntary nap according to the medics. Been here waiting for months for you to find me, Barton." Phil kissed him again and Clint clung onto the feeling of Phil's lips on his once again. 

"So, the sequence, it'll work?"

"We just have to play it and upload into their systems,” Phil looked up and smiled, the left side of his mouth quirking up higher than the right. So achingly familiar and Clint willed back the relief and happiness for now; there'd be time enough later to celebrate. “It works on the Nothings and the Thanosites.”

Clint licked his lips and he nodded to the outpost. “We need to get the sequence out on the Waves. Get them to all of the units.”

“Already got it covered,” Natasha pointed up and Clint saw black shapes winging their way into the air. “Pretty fitting. Crows delivering the messages for the soon dead.” The little speck of silver wrapped around each tiny little clawed leg held, what Clint knew, were data chips. 

Clint looked from Phil to Natasha and began to smile, the feeling of hope welling up from his chest. “We're going to win.”

Phil gripped the back of Clint's hand tight. Rough fingers rubbed against the circle of beaten metal on Clint's finger like a promise. “Yeah, Agent Barton. We're going to win.”

“Outstanding,” Clint said and watched the birds disappear into the night, black shapes eating at the horizon.

-0-0-

Phil's thirty sixth birthday was spent in celebration. There was cake and kisses and music played over the Free Waves. The air was clear as were the skies. Clint warmed Phil's side and they both cheered when Steve finally took to one knee and grabbed Tony's hand with his free one, the other held out a box.

In the desert, a cactus bloomed red and pink flowers. A bird sat safe atop its spindly needles and called out to the darkening sky.

The world was alive with sound and life.

**Author's Note:**

> In no order whatsoever, a brief glossary and/or definition of terms and things! 
> 
> Sookin syul - according to Google is Russian for "Son of a bitch!"
> 
> Global - Global position/location
> 
> Flotsam - is Clint's tricked out Jeep. In my head, it looks like Tupac's Jeep from the California Love video. 
> 
> Nat - Clint's modified Nothing rifle with rounds to blow people's heads off. Badabing badaBOOM.
> 
> "Keep the heaters humming" - In the future, in my head, it's a version of "keep the homefires burning."
> 
> Nothings - Loki meat puppets; think of zombies but with pretty blue eyes and veiny features. you can be infected but if you're Pulled Out of it soon enough you can survive with BONUS immunity! like getting the alien chicken pox. There is a point where you don't come back and then you're just meat puppet.
> 
> The Underground - A set of dwellings in old subway systems and such. 
> 
> Friendly - Noncombatant/not enemy
> 
> Waves - Communication lines used by the Fighters
> 
> P.L. - means Post Loki or P.L.I. Post Loki Invasion
> 
> Free Waves - Free Communication Waves; Post Victory Earth
> 
> "Free skies" - Clear
> 
> "Clear as Before" - Pre Invasion; when the skies/earth were/was free and clear.
> 
> birdsong/birdie/'song - Fighter Units have their own codes; code talkers each have their specific sequences. Think CB radios and spotty cell reception meets Morse code and bird calls. 
> 
> Thanosites - Thanos = evil alien overlord w/ Loki as his general; Thanosites are his little alien soldiers.
> 
> A group of crows is called a "murder."
> 
> Title is from My Chemical Romance's Danger Days: The True Lives of the Fabulous Killjoys taken from the "song" Traffic Report.
> 
> I do realize that this could have been about 25 more scenes long. I don't even READ apocalypse fic. If you find any glaring errors, concrit always welcome.


End file.
